


Even The Devil's Got Demons

by SmutPrince



Category: Cuphead (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Post-Game(s), Rating May Change, probably gonna get nasty later knowing me but this time with ~plot~
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-29 04:10:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12622880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmutPrince/pseuds/SmutPrince
Summary: A story about what a man is supposed to do when even the devil abandons him.





	1. Rotting

He hadn’t seen him in months.

King Dice was starting to wonder if he was dead, given that the last time he knew where the devil was, those damn cup kids were on their way to pummel him to a pulp. He didn’t think the cups were capable of that sort of thing, but he didn’t think they were capable of kicking his ass either and just look at him now. The casino was barren, even the last of the staff had left weeks ago.

But not Dice.

Honestly, King Dice wasn’t sure why he stuck around when everybody else had left. The soul contracts of everyone in the casino, including him, had been burned to ashes alongside the townspeople’s; it wasn’t like he was chained to the husk of a building anymore. Maybe it was because without the casino, without the devil, he didn’t have really anything else. He’d been at the side of evil for so long he had no idea what to do with himself. It wasn’t as if he could go looking for shelter within town. He was as broke as they came, and a poor choice for a charity case. So he wandered the halls of the casino, passing by the devil’s door, as if expecting him to be inside, grumbling to himself and flipping through paperwork as he usually did.

The were still booze of all sorts in the bar, thankfully nobody took those with them when the mass exodus of the casino happened. Dice took a swig of vodka right out of the bottle, staring at the glass as the burn subsided in his chest and settled into a warmth in his face. What was he doing before all this? Twenty years ago seemed like centuries. Trading his soul for wealth was, in hindsight, a stupid idea. He probably could have made his way on his own, devil be damned.

Scowling, Dice threw the bottle down the hall, shattering it against marble floor. He should leave this place, should move to another town, should hope that his reputation doesn’t precede him, though it does, he know it does, and he berates himself for hoping on unrealistic things. Dealing with the devil was no under the counter business, it was right out there, for everyone to see. Not like they could have done anything about it. That’s life, baby.

Dice looked haggard, he knew it. His injuries had healed, but he was an unkempt mess. His mustache was crooked and crimped, he had a chip in his head on the top right from his fight with the brothers, and his clothes left something to be desired. He was thinner, and that bottle he’d just chucked was one of only a few more left from his binging. Surviving off of the non perishables in the casino kitchen, he was rationing himself smaller and smaller amounts of food everyday. He was weak.

Slumping in stature, Dice rubbed the bridge of his nose, exhausted. He should do something, or else he was going to rot along with the rest of the building. He wasn’t exactly unrecognizable, he had a face that left an impression, that wide smile leering over the shoulders of casino patrons left a mental scar to those who lost. And a lot of people lost in the devil’s house. There was some cash in the safe, if only because Dice and the devil were the only ones to know its combination. He wasn’t completely broke, then. But he knew that the contents would only last him three months at best. Despite being down to three cans of beans, he hoarded his cash, like a miser. The one thing he had to show for all the bullshit he’d been through. Money.

And now he was starving and even money would soon leave him.

Discarding his tattered coat, Dice rolled up the sleeves of his pale lavender dress shirt. No point in moping, he thought, eyes trained on the door at the end of the hallway, where the boxing ring was. He’d been spending a lot of time in the ring, punching the equipment until his knuckles bled. Letting off some steam, he swung his right fist into the side of the punching bag, clocking it to the left. Hours of punching had shown in Dice, he was leaner because of his diet, yes, but he had gained muscle mass.

Punching harder and harder, eyes narrow and fierce, Dice imagined punching those cups. Beating them into the dirt, kicking the shit out of them. “It’s all because of you, you stupid goodie goodie pieces of shit!” he snarled, swinging harder and hearing the beam the punching bag was attached to. He didn’t stop swinging. “Stupid, idiots, bastards, fucking-” he was wildly punching the bag now, and he could hear the wood splintering. He wound up for the final punch, determined to clock the lights out of the cups, when a flash of what was really bothering him hit him. “Why did you leave me here alone!?” he shouted, the image of the devil entering his mind, as he cleared the bag off the wood and sent it flying across the room.

Dice was panting now, knuckles split again where splits from the past had yet to heal. Great, the thought, falling back against the wall, sitting on the bench. As he caught his breath, sweat running down his brow, Dice looked down at his now bleeding hands. Why had he thought about the devil? He didn’t need the guy to watch his back anymore, he was gone; but Dice guessed that after so many years of the devil on his back, both breathing down it and having it, well, he felt betrayed. How can the man he looked up to, the most powerful thing he knew, lose?

And what chance did Dice have in this world if even the devil himself could be struck down?


	2. Slow Decay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some more moping around.

Days later, Dice, reluctantly, decided to try going into town with what money he had and stock up on food and booze; he could enter town under the guise of darkness and purchase goods from Porkrind. Maybe antiseptic for his wounds as well-they were starting to ache.

He was only wearing his slacks and dress shirt anymore, his jacket so torn it looked tackier to keep it on than off. The bowtie as well. If he was going to look at messy as he was, he wasn’t going to pretend to have any refinement left. Grabbing a discarded duster from the lost and found, King Dice crept to the entrance of the casino, hesitant. He hadn’t seen daylight in months, hadn’t had fresh air either for that matter. He pushes the door open slightly, peering outside. It was dark and damp, probably raining outside of the cave. He presses further on the door, tilting his head up. A single drop of water catches him in the eye and he curses under his breath. Definitely raining outside.

He must be becoming an agoraphobe or something, because he’s somewhat afraid to leave the casino. For what reason, he’s not sure. He’s spent nearly all his life the past twenty something years here, barely venturing past the cave mouth other than to collect debts unpaid. Familiarity does things to a man. He takes a step out.

He doesn’t die then and there, no demon comes from the ground ready to reap his soul. Wow, he probably should have left sooner. Dice has some qualms about why it took him so long to leave, but he pushes the worry aside. Food. Antiseptic. Blessed liquor. He continues on, until he sees the light of the cave mouth. Faint light, purple in color. It’s dusk. Perfect.

Popping his head out the cave mouth, he glances around; there’s nobody in sight and the train isn’t there. There are a few signs, new ones, that stand proudly around the mouth of the cave. “Stay Out For Own Sake” and “The Devil Deals Here” were two of Dice’s favorite. ‘The devil’s been gone, only his demons remain here,’ he thinks, grimacing at the dimly lit sky. The trek into town is uneventful, he hikes the coat’s collar up to hide his face as best he can. The theatre crowd is scarce, a few stragglers coming in from a movie hanging out around its entrance. They don’t spare a glance at Dice, too swept up in discussing the show. Dice feels like a ghost in this town, unseen, forgotten. He’s been dead to the world for so long.

Dice’s shoulders straighten from their slumped demeanor, and he unclenches his jacket. What did he honestly expect from the townspeople? A witch hunt seemed hardly likely; it had been three months since the nullification of the contracts- if they wanted him, they’d have come for him. Still, that didn’t stop him from worry about their … hospitality. Surely the good people of Inkwell wouldn’t let someone starve. Surely.

Dice followed the road, before hanging a left towards the shop cart. Porkrind’s light was on, much to Dice’s delight. He made longer, faster strides towards the cart. Porkrind was polishing something behind his counter, glancing up just as Dice made it to the front of his cart. He snorted loudly. “Well I’ll be damned, ya ain’t left the Isle?” Confused, Dice squinted. “Why, my good man, would I go fleeing my home?” Porkrind snorted louder this time. “Home. Sure, kid. I’m just sayin’ people thought you and the devil woulda fled from this place when those boys kicked your hinds. Rumor has it the brothers gave him mercy.” Dice winced at the blow to his pride at being reminded of the thorough ass kicking, but perked up despite himself at the news. The devil was alive. Having noticed he spaced out, Dice regained his composure. “Hi de ho, that’s a no,” he dead panned. “I’ve got no idea where the devil is. Didn’t realize he was even alive.” Dice hoped he sounded casual and detached.

Porkrind eyes him with his good peeper. “So what’re ya here for kid?” Dice rolled his eyes. “Don’t call me kid, Pork, I’m in my thirties. I’m here for food. And booze.” Dice laid out the gold coins from his bag of cash. “As many non perishables as you can fork over.” Porkrind eyed the gold, before he looked Dice in the eye. “You’ve been stayin’ alone in that casino all this time, eh?” Shit, he was figured out. Dice flushed, embarrassed at the tone. Porkrind’s voice was laced with pity. “I’ve been doing renovations,” he lied, “Just a little bit of work here and there. Gonna get the place up and running again in a month.” Porkrind arched an eyebrow at that. “You really think anybody in Inkwell is gonna fall into that honeypot again? Make anymore deals with the devil?”

“They won’t be making deals with the devil, they’ll be making them with me. Now please, my dear sir, those supplies.” Dice was getting antsy, worried Porkrind was stalling for something.

“Yeah, yeah, no problem, kid,” Porkrind waved a meaty hand, before rummaging behind him for the food and booze. Dice tapped his foot, arms crossed, and sank into his coat when he heard some people pass on the street. He was definitely gonna need to get used to getting out more often. Finally, Porkrind handed him his goods, and bid him a good night. King Dice held his bags of beans and tequila close to his chest as he headed back to the casino, brushing past the couple walking by on the street. They gasped and whispered to one another behind him, and Dice swore, for some reason frightened enough to increase his speed to a run.

When he crossed the railroad tracks, he slowed to a walk, out of breath and dizzy from lack of food. He turned back briefly to the third isle, before sighing and walking back into the casino. Why had he gotten so squeamish? Did he really think he was that weak without the devil backing him up? Had those boys knocked something askew in his mind? Dice cursed again, slamming the doors to the casino open and opening the bottle of tequila he’d just bought and taking a large mouthful.

Why did he even bother lying about the casino? It was a bad lie, and he flushed in embarrassment again. He could never get this place up and running again. Right? It would take months. Maybe years. And Porkrind was right, who’d come crawling back to the devil’s lair?

‘Besides you,’ he thought, bitterly.

Dice took a look around at the place, which was beginning to deteriorate, permeating the air with the ache of slow decay. He was going to die here if he didn’t do something about it. He takes another swig. His mind starts swimming. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad, dying. He’d go right to hell. Wasn’t that far of a jump from this. God, when did he start thinking like that? Another swig.

Shit, he forgot the antiseptic.


	3. Flames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brawl is surely brewing!

The unmistakable sounds of construction: men shouting, the beep of construction equipment backing up, the sound of smashing against the casino.

Dice snapped up, head protesting immediately. Sound of smashing against the casino!? Despite his body screaming at him for moving, Dice scrambled to his feet, rolling up his sleeves, ready to give some poor sap a pummeling for this. He exited the casino to see a gaggle of workers talking over what looked like schematics, pointing wildly in this and that direction. Dice heard another deafening smash against the casino, and turned just in time to see a wrecking ball blast a hole in the side of the building, crumbling the eastern wall. Dice felt dizzy. He bolted towards the group of men, eyes crazed and teeth gnashing. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demands, grabbing the nearest construction worker by the back of his shirt before he can get away. The man sinks into his overalls. “W-w-what do you mean? The casino’s an eyesore. We’re just getting rid of it.”

Dice nearly throttled the man. “An eyesore? AN EYESORE? I’ll show you what a real eyesore is!” He wound up to punch the man only to be tackled by three particularly burly men. “Get offa me! Get offa me! That’s my casino!” he shouted as he heard the wrecking ball smash against its mark again. His head was screaming from all the noise, his body straining against the men holding him down. God he was so dizzy, the world was spinning. “Th-that’s … my … casino …” he slurred, feeling his whole body go up in flame, burning him from the inside out. What was going on?

His hands ached. That was the last thing he registered before he was out like a light.

-

The devil was facing away from him, talking to blurry smudges. Dice could barely hear him, and he definitely couldn’t make out what he was saying. Dice went to reach for him, unable to make contact. The devil stopped speaking to whoever it was he was speaking to, and turned slightly towards Dice, his eyes widening in what looked like surprise. Dice could read his name on the devil’s lips, and then it all went up in flames.

-

Dice awoke with a start, arching his back as pain, heat, and stiffness overtook his body. He was dressed in only his slacks, his torso bare and his hands bandaged heavily. He felt as though his body was on fire, despite the lack of clothing. A cool hand pressed onto his shoulder, pushing him into the bed, keeping him grounded. “King Dice! You need to sit back. You’re incredibly weak from dehydration and the infection in your hands has spread to your body, you need to - now are you listening to anything I’m saying!?” Dice’s head spun when he barely even sat up. Where even was he? His vision was so distorted, tined oddly and blurry. He could make up the familiar shapes of a hospital room, and then finally the face of Elder Kettle, Inkwell’s only doctor. “What the hell am I doing here?” Dice spat, weakly swiping at the old man and making the kettle back off. “Get off me!”

Elder Kettle sighed heavily, keeping his distance in case of another weak handed attempt at striking him. “You’re ill, Dice, you need to rest. From what Porkrind told me, you’ve been staying in the casino this whole time drinking yourself to death.” Dice opened his mouth to protest but was cut off. “The casino construction workers searched the building for anymore stragglers like yourself. They saw the empty booze bottles, Dice.” Elder Kettle went to the far side of the room, sitting in a rolling chair. Dice’s eyes were narrowed, watching Kettle like a hawk. “Who told you people you could just come in and bulldoze whatever you please?”

Elder Kettle’s eyes softened and Dice felt a twist of disgust in his gut. He didn’t need this man’s pity. “The contract for the owner of the land was destroyed, the land is forfeit to the people of Inkwell.” Dice’s stomach dropped. He was losing the casino now too? “And what of the contents inside?” Kettle didn’t look at Dice in the eye, instead choosing to analyse his dancing thumbs. “Forfeited as well.” Dice’s stomach lurched as he suddenly felt ill, heaving into his hand, the dizziness of earlier overtaking him again. Kettle got up to assist him, but Dice all but hissed at Kettle. “You … you stay the fuck away from me,” he sneered, before retching once again, feeling the burning of stomach acid threaten the bottom of his esophagus. “Dice you need-” Elder Kettle began.

“Don’t- don’t tell me what to do,” he snapped, voice strained as he pushed off the bed. “You can’t-” Dice finally struck the man upside the face, eyes bright with fury. “Don’t you ever tell me what I can and cannot do. I’m Mister King Dice, and I will do as I damn well please.” Kettle shook, holding the crack in his face, as Dice hobbled out of the clinic. “You’re a damn fool if you think you can keep this up! The devil isn’t here anymore, you have no power over the residents of Inkwell!” Elder Kettle’s curses fell on deaf ears as Dice wobbled out of the clinic, towards the first isle. He passes a Porkrind’s emporium and a brief notion of setting it ablaze comes to mind, but he’s too weak right now to make that dream a reality and unfortunately out of matches.

Thankfully it’s dark out again and Dice manages to sneak past all those formerly indebted to him. His rational side tells him he has nothing to fear, after all he’d been brought to the town doctor following his episode and not left to rot with the once casino--surely now a pile of rubble. Dice, however, was never famed for his trusting nature. He was known as the sleazy casino manager, the devil right hand man, and one hell of a brawler from his younger days.

When he finally dragged his feet to the wrong side of the tracks, he fell over, breathing labored, and laid in the dirt at the mouth of the cave. He knew Kettle wouldn’t lie about the demolition of the casino, but he had to see it for himself. Yet he was terrified to, unsure of how he’d go on without the casino. What he’d do after. He knew that, deep down, he hoped the devil would return stronger and ready to start contracting people again--that if this monument to sin would still stand, if Dice would still stand…

And now here he was lying in the dirt, dying from the inside out illness of the body and mind. He was rotting.

He’d ruined his chances to go back to town. Surely Elder Kettle had already reported the incident and there was a mob ready to attack. The cups would be back, too. Dice felt vulnerable, more so than before, out in the open. He should go inside. Salvage what he could, and bail. Dragging himself up, Dice began the descent into the cave again, face stoney.

It really was gone.

Dice looked around at the construction equipment, abandoned for the now in favor of a night’s rest. Dice kicked a chunk of the red dice that once lined the outside of the casino aside, grimace deepening. Had he not woken, that very well could have been him. Pressing forward, he stood atop the ruins of the once great testament to hell. Scanning around him, his posture wavering with the crashing realization that, yes, it was all gone, he spotted something peculiar. He hopped down a few pieces of rubble, struggling to keep his balance without falling several times, finally falling to his knees to the door.

There was a lone door approximately 7 feet tall. Grandiose compared to the destruction around it, it had not a single scratch on it. How had Dice missed this scanning the hallways and rooms and offices of the casino for so many months and for years prior to the devil’s disappearance? The devil, it seemed, was still holding secrets. There were chains around it, possibly put there by the construction workers to deter anyone from entering. Their presence only spurred Dice on further. He tugged on the chains lightly, finding them intertwined on themselves at a center point, which was held in place with a padlock. Cursing, Dice grabbed a nearby chunk of brick, smashing it against the padlock until the brick crumbled in his hand. “Fuck!” he screamed, exasperated by everything that had happened. Losing his cool, he grabbed a nearby pipe and began beating the padlock and door, often missing the padlock all together and just making blows onto the chains or the velvet of the door. Yet the door remained intact.

Finally the padlock gave in to Dice’s assault and broke with a resounding clang. Dice’s breathing was labored again, and he threw the pipe into the distance, the sound of it hitting the cave floor echoed throughout the cave in in Dice’s mind. He pulled the chains away to reveal a gold gilded handle. Without hesitation, he threw the door open and stepped inside, before falling into a dark abyss, the ground falling out from under him and the sound of crackling flames filling the air. Dice fell and fell for what seemed like hours, the heat only increasing, before he was jerked to a stop and thrust back upwards, back towards the entrance of the door.

Dice was thrown back out the door a good fifteen feet, hitting what felt like a plaster wall. He groaned, there was light now, dazzlingly bright, and the sound of concerned voices. Dice couldn’t see for how bright it was, for how hard he hit his head. Despite his disoriented state, he could see a familiar silhouette, and went to speak before his eyes defocused and his head fell back with a thunk.


	4. Calm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this ones a short one

Dice really should stop passing out places. When he wakes up he’s in a bed, strangely enough. He doesn’t make any move to sit up, so drained and desolate at this point he doesn’t see much of a reason to move. He wonders idly where he is, but isn’t exactly busting down doors to figure it out. Not that he could, he’s basically paralyzed with exhaustion.

He takes note of his surroundings, however. Dice finds a sort of familiarity in this place, almost as if he were back at the casino; but that’s impossible, the casino is in shambles. The walls are a scarlet red and the floor marble, just as it had been in Inkwell. There’s also something in the air, something akin to raw power, that Dice can’t mistake for anything other than the devil--and Dice finally moves to rise from the bed. There’s nobody in the room this time to stop him, and he gets up with sluggish movement. He no longer feels on fire as he did before, no longer has the pain in his knuckles. He’s still not wearing a shirt of any kind and he’s been stripped down to his boxer briefs. He can’t really muster the need to care, the pants were so worn out from lack of care that he could hardly say he missed them. Dice wrinkled his nose, getting a whiff of what he smelled like. Months of no running water had definitely taken its toll. Before he had hidden his smell under layers but now it was out in the open.

Dice rises to his feet, stiff and somewhat unstable, and spots a note on the nightstand next to the bed.

_“There are clothes in the washroom on your right. Please, bathe and get dressed.”_

Dice reads the note and looks towards his right. Sure enough there is a slightly cracked door with what looks to be tile and white marble past its hinges. He shuffles over, the floor is warm. The bathroom is lavish as the rest of the room. Dice barely notices as he shucks off his underwear, starting a bath. He watches as the tub fills, and picks up one of the many bottles of fancy soap. He hasn’t experienced luxury like this in months, and the thought saddens him. Pouring the contents of the bottle into the bath, he turns to face the mirror. He’s definitely different. He looks like hell, actually. He’s embarrassed to have been wandering around Inkwell like this, and even more so that whoever was taking care of him now saw him so haggard. The crack on Dice’s right is getting deeper. He tentatively touches it, but there is no pain.

The bath is ready, and he slips in and for the first time in months, he relaxes.


End file.
